Practice Makes Perfect
by Wholocklolly
Summary: Having been best friends since childhood, Molly and Sherlock trust eachother. So when their respective significant others express interest in intimacy, they turn to eachother for practice.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is for the "50 Reasons to Have Sex" Sherlolly prompt-thingy. I chose "Practice". I initially intended to make it a one shot, but ideas were thrown around in the Sherlolly chat room and so this will be mult-chapter. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Folding her legs underneath her, Molly squirmed a bit in an attempt to get comfortable in the plush bean chair wedged neatly into the corner of her best friend Sherlock's tree house. It was hardly a fort designated for kings, in fact it was slightly dilapidated and a few of the floor boards needed to be replaced, in addition to a sagging spot in the roof. However Molly couldn't count on any other place for the solace that this one provided.

A few branches of the large oak tree hung low enough to the ground to provide sufficient leverage to pull oneself up into the shelter, which sat nestled in the middle of three largely outstretched bows. A dense forest surrounded it, and then further in an artificial lake. It was often a favourite resting place for birds and other animals, which chirped and squeaked joyously amongst the greenery.

Of course, Molly only had the luxury of visiting this delightfully relaxing place in the summer, as that was when the Holmes family took up residence in their manor, which was a ways outside of London, nestled in the countryside. Usually, Sherlock accompanied her into the tree house which had served as their fort since childhood, but he was out with his girlfriend. Molly understood, of course. He always made time for their friendship, but of course most of his down time would be spent with Irene. Molly had her own boyfriend to worry about, which was really the main reason she was holed up in the tree house in the first place, and which is why she'd taken a cab instead of asking her mum to drive her.

Sliding her hand down to the pocket of her jeans, she fingered the outline of her mobile, followed by the hotel room key underneath (conveniently, his father worked at a hotel and had offered up the room to him willingly). It had been an offer so sweet Molly could hardly resist. At sixteen, she believed herself ready to take the next step with her boyfriend. She cared deeply for him, and wanted to share with him the most intimate part of herself. The only problem was, Molly was inexperienced, while he had been with a few others prior to her. It was easy to feel inadequate next to the tract record her boyfriend had. Really, she felt like a silly little girl, ready to lose her virginity. But the last thing Molly wanted was to come up short next to his previous sexual encounters.

Molly was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't recognise the dark head of curls poking into the doorway of the tree house until it was too late. Letting out a loud squeak, Molly nearly fell back onto a faulty floorboard, where rot and mildew had already set in. However, this only made Sherlock chuckle deeply.

"You arse! Why did you scare me like that?" she reached over and smacked his arm, and Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down across from her.

"I hardly need to announce my presence. It's hard to miss the groan of the floorboards. What's on your mind that has you so preoccupied?" Molly shifted and huffed slightly, and Sherlock's eyebrows rose. "Will you tell me, or shall I deduce it?"

Scowling, Molly dug into her pocket for the room key. Producing it, her cheeks heated a bit. She hardly had to voice what the meaning behind it was.

"Ah," Sherlock replied quietly, before looking up at her from under his mop of dark curls. "Yes. Irene's been voicing the same desires to me. However that isn't the matter, is it?"

Molly sighed and shook her head, a little annoyed he could read her so easily. "I've not- well you know I've never-" she cut herself off with a huff. "He's had sex before. He's, well, e_xperienced_. I just don't want to disappoint." She shifted, licking her lips and looking down at her hands.

Sherlock was silent for a good long moment, causing Molly to look up at him. "You know I've not had sex before either," he replied and Molly only nodded slightly, blushing. He took another moment to collect his thoughts, but just as he opened his mouth, his phone began to ring. Scowling, he answered it.

"Yes Mycroft, what is it?" It was the dinner call, obviously. But Sherlock enjoyed giving his brother a few good proddings before they ate. Rolling her eyes, Molly slid out of the tree house, waiting down below for Sherlock to join her, before they made their way to the dining hall.

Dinner at the Holmes manor was always a lavish affair, but at this point, Molly hardly felt out of place in her jeans and cherry cardigan. The Holmes' were family, even if that family possessed large amounts of money and had heavy expectations for their children. Mr. Holmes was often brusque and had terrified Molly since she was a child, but he had no daughters and tended to spoil her, alongside Violet, Sherlock and Mycroft's mother.

There was of course gentle conversation throughout the duration of the dinner, brought upon mostly by Molly's presence. She loathed thinking of the eerie silence that must fill the elaborate hall in her absence. Still, her attention was waning. She wondered what Sherlock had wanted to say to her earlier, wishing Mycroft had waited just a bit longer to patronise his brother over one thing or the other.

Once dinner was over, Molly followed Sherlock to his study, figuring she might as well attempt some homework to get her mind off her little predicament. The moment they entered the study, however, Sherlock rounded on her. "As I meant to say earlier, I've had some time to think on both of our little predicaments, and have come to one logical conclusion."

Molly looked up at him, setting her book bag down. "What's that?"

"We practice."

* * *

Molly's first reaction was of course to be completely dumbfounded. And then she blushed and twisted her fingers into the hem of her cardigan. "Sherlock, you're not serious, are you?" But his determined expression told her otherwise. Just as she was about to protest, he cut her off.

"But it's logical, is it not? We're friends. I trust you more than I trust anyone else, and I would imagine the sentiment is mutual. We're both virgins that wish to be more experienced. So we practice, on eachother."

Molly gulped in a breath, hating that it made sense. So _much _sense. But the last thing she wanted to do was damage their friendship. As if Sherlock could sense her concerns, he stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on her forearm. "Molly, look at me." She looked up, and he touched her chin. "You can trust me, and I know I can trust you."

She sucked in a breath. "That's not… that's not what I'm worried about." She chewed on her bottom lip and then sighed, glancing down. "I don't want to be label a cheater."

"No one has to know but us," he replied simply. "It is for the benefit of our significant others, is it not?"

Molly took a moment, before nodding. She swallowed. "Can I just have a bit of time? To think it over?"

Sherlock nodded. "Of course." Perching at his desk, he peered into his microscope at a petri dish festering with mould. Wrinkling her nose a bit, Molly found a plus armchair and curled up by the fire, hating how much sense Sherlock's proposition made. Because they were best friends, and losing one's virginity was an intimate time. She trusted Sherlock to be careful with her more than anyone, and she knew she would be tender to him in return. If she wanted to live up to any expectation her boyfriend would have, she needed to practice. And what better person for the job was there, other than Sherlock himself?

Sighing, Molly decided to think further on the topic later, however she could tell her mind was already made up.

* * *

The following day, Molly showed up at the Holmes manor and searched out Sherlock. She found him by the lake, testing soil samples in a mixture of acid and something that smelled putrid. Pinching her nose, she stopped in front of him. "Right, I've thought about it."

Sherlock didn't look up. "And?"

"Yes. It's a yes." He peered up at her then. Her voice wavered almost imperceptibly, and Sherlock stood and cradled her jaw tenderly. He bumped their foreheads together, sighing softly. "Molly, you do have a choice. I'm not going to force you into anything. It is a proposition, and nothing more."

Molly nodded gently, closing her eyes for a moment before peering up at him. "I trust you. Do you trust me?"

Sherlock nodded slightly, and she drew back, holding out her hand. "I hate to sound dirty but the tree house is our only option while your brother is still afoot."

He snorted and nodded. "I'm afraid you are correct."

Winding through the dense trees, Molly clutched at Sherlock's hand, her palm a bit sweaty. Her heart was pounding her chest, reverberating in her ears as they reached the tree house. God, she hoped the pleasant memories of childhood wouldn't be washed away by what they were about to do. The last thing she wanted was to dirty this place of solace.

They both sat in the middle of the floor, looking nervous and a bit pale. Figuring she might as well take the initiative, Molly sat forward on her knees and very, very tentatively kissed Sherlock. When his hand came up to press against the small of her back, she pressed herself into his lap. God she was _sweating _and shaking slightly and they somehow managed to knock teeth, even though at least this part they were both adept at.

When Sherlock's tongue slipped into her mouth, she shifted forward a little too much and bit down accidentally. Flinging himself backwards in surprise, their foreheads knocked, leaving them both a little dazed. However, they managed to giggle it off. Molly's hands went to Sherlock's trousers, one of her hands slipping inside. She palmed at him, making him groan as she used her other hand to awkwardly push down his trousers off his hips.

Neither of them foresaw his boxers getting stuck on his hard-on, leaving Molly a furiously blushing mess. Slipping her thumbs under the waistband, she managed to tug them down and past his knees. Shifting partially in between his thighs, Molly gazed down at dark matted pubic hair, her gaze trailer lower, skimming over his hard cock, which curved upwards towards his belly button. Sucking in a breath, Molly shifted downwards, her gazing darted up to meet his once she nestled herself between his thighs.

Tentatively curling her fingers around his shaft, she gave him a squeeze which made him grunt. "Careful," he whispered hoarsely.

"Sorry," she muttered, focusing her gaze on her hands as she very slowly stroked upwards, making his hips roll into her hand. Taking the plunge, Molly shifted forward and licked at the head of him, making him swear under his breath. When she began to ease him into her mouth, she didn't bother tucking her lips over her teeth, instead scraping them down his sensitive flesh as she took him in inch by inch.

Sherlock let out an artless grunt, attempting to push her away. "Molly," he said, and then whimpered. "_Molly_." she drew back, cheeks heating. "Teeth- don't use teeth," he panted.

Molly sucked in an embarrassed breath and drew back, simply curling her fingers around him once more. "Sorry," she murmured softly, stroking him tentatively. In a fluid motion, Sherlock had her flipped and pinned underneath him, his fingers slipping into her knickers. He, however, bipassed her clit and went for her entrance, making Molly squirm uncomfortably. "Up," she said, trying to guide his hand as she stroked him.

Sherlock let out a shuddering breath then, spurting all over Molly's front. Shrieking, Molly flailed slightly, her elbow plunging through one of the rotted floorboards. Rolling them both to the side, Sherlock apologised profusely, his cheeks bright red.

"Well," Sherlock said after an awkward stretch of silence as Molly attempted to clean off her front with bits of tissue from Sherlock's pocket. "That was..." he cleared his throat. "Lovely. I'm going to- yes. Lunch will be ready soon." He all but darted off, leaving Molly staring down at the ground through the broken board.

Research. He needed to do research.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to varjaks, Kathmak, Calicar, M, cutepet, Poodle warriors, conchepcion, and Da3n3rysTargary3nStark for reviewing last chapter. Awkward teenlock sex is awkward, time for another round! First two chapters are painfully PWP but I'll delve more into the story as I go!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"How on God's green Earth did this happen, Sherlock?" Mycroft practically bellowed out, the landscaper and personal contractor poised behind him, their stance unconsciously defensive.

"The tree house is older than your girlfriend, how do you think it happened?" Sherlock snapped back. "Fix it.

Mycroft bristled slightly, before rolling his eyes and spinning towards the pair of cowering men. "Demolish the thing. Rebuild it. This time, don't make it so... quaint."

Sherlock scowled. "No, Molly is sentimental you idiot. Don't demolish it. It won't be the same and it will only upset her."

Mycroft inclined his head slightly, and then nodded to the men once again. "Repair it then," he muttered, voice taut, at his wit's end by this point. Dealing with his younger brother always left him in a sour mood.

As they walked back towards the manor, Sherlock attempted to stay two steps ahead of his plump older brother in order to avoid what he may percieve as an invitation for conversation. It seemed Mycroft wasn't looking for an invitation, however, and instead decided to press it unwillingly against Sherlock.

"Some of my condoms are missing," he said simply, obviously expecting Sherlock to explain himself, although it was rather obvious.

Sherlock sneered at his brother. "I hardly imagined you would miss them."

Mycroft pressed two fingers to his temple, his little brother waring on him. "I'm not about to lecture you on your sex life-"

"That's a first."

"_Sherlock_," Mycroft hissed. "I'm glad you are not being pig-headed for once and are taking the neccessary precautions. However, if you are in need of protection, you need only ask."

Sherlock sneered. "But what fun would there be in _that_?" he left Mycroft infront of the house, striding down various elaborately decorated hallways, past the grand marble staircase that he'd broken his arm on as a child (playing pirates, naturally, with Molly as his first mate) and through the study hall.

Upon reaching his bedroom, Sherlock sat down at his desk and opened the lid of his laptop, drumming his fingers on the desk in thought. In order to further acquaint himself with the female body, and in turn increase Molly's pleasure, and in the long run Irene's, Sherlock recognised the need to do research. Naturally, he turned to Google.

Video documentries seemed to his best bet, as it would provide a viewing aid to help him along. As he skimmed over the website, he browsed categories in order to narrow down the best instructional video. He supposed amateur was what he was, so it might better assist him in explaining the female body if her were to browse that particular category, as opposed to senior or experienced.

Clicking on a video that was twenty minutes long and entitled "How to Make Your Girl Cum Hard" Sherlock delighted himself in how clever he was as it loaded. It began with them kissing quite voraciously, practically devouring eachother with their mouths, moving into then discarding their clothing. Sherlock watched the girl in the video sink to her knees, taking her partners cock in her hand. She stroked it a few times and then guided him into her mouth. He thrusted up into her mouth, making her gag, and Sherlock noted her delighted expression and filed that away for later.

It transitioned into the girl on her back, her partner between her thighs. He spit onto her privates and then began licking at her entrance, wriggling his tongue into her. She seemed to delight in every moment if it, before finally spurting onto his face.

Drawing him up, she licked off his chin, and he turned her over so she was propped onto her hands and knees. Rubbing his cock against her entrance, he pressed into her, however it wasn't exactly the hole Sherlock had been expecting.

The video lasted for another ten minutes and then Sherlock shut off his computer. He noticed then the little predicament in his trousers. Annoyed that he was so effected by a mere instructional video, Sherlock lay on his bed. His phone began to ring, but he rejected the call when he saw Irene's name. No doubt she wanted to come over, but Sherlock didn't feel like speaking to her. He wondered why there was a nagging at the back of his mind. This was all for her, right?

* * *

Molly came over again the following day. The tree house was repaired and looking brighter than it had in years, and Molly grinned a she pulled herself up into it. There was a few more chairs than previous, although their box of childish belongings was left untouched in the corner. A new area rug was laid out upon the floor, a lovely plush arm chair poised at one of its corners. Spotting Sherlock in the corner, looking deep in thought, brow slightly furrowed, Molly cleared her throat, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

Looking towards her, Sherlock blinked and then unfurled his long legs from underneath him. Passing a hand through his dark curls, he gazed at her for a moment, before pulling himself to his feet. "I nicked some condoms off Mycroft. He won't be needing them." he grinned mischievously at her, and Molly snorted.

"Right, so. I did a bit of reading and I think that, erm. We might do well trying again? Unless- unless it was a one time thing..." she trailed off, flushing a deep red colour.

"I haven't yet penetrated you. Our practice would hardly be worth one measly session where I came all over you."

Molly nodded a little, before gesturing for him to sit down in the armchair. Sherlock eyed her for a moment, before willingly sinking back. Molly got on her knees in front of him, coaxing his trousers off his hips, beginning a slow, torturous decent up his pale thighs. She could hardly contain the excitement pooling in her belly at the little involuntary noises spilling from his parted lips.

When she reached his groin, her gaze flitted to his face, watching his Adam's Apple bob as he gulped, her fingers caressing his balls tenderly. Then she moved in, pressing faint, teasing kisses and licks that ignited a fire in his groin, before he was engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth. He stifled a groan, his hands twisting in her hair like he'd seen in the instructional video, tugging and making her grunt from what he only assumed was pleasure.

Then he bucked up and she gagged so hard she nearly threw up, drawing back quickly. "Sherlock, don't ever fucking do that again," she managed out, coughing a few times. Blinking in surprise, his brow furrowed in confusion, before he shrugged it off. Even instructional videos weren't always right.

"My turn," he purred, descending onto her body. She giggled sweetly as he pulled her clothes off her overheated body, pressing apart her thighs and shifting in between them. Her hitch in breath made him gulp as he pressed his nose against her, licking gently. She gasped and writhed slightly and he pressed her hips down unconsciously before spitting on her, as he had seen. She let out a squeak but he ignored it, delving his tongue into her entrance.

Quickly growing uncomfortable, Molly shoved his face away. "Sherlock, God that's disgusting. Why would you _spit _on me?" she pressed her thighs shut, her nose wrinkled.

"I thought-" he gulped uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Is that not what I am supposed to do?"

"No, darling," she murmured softly, carding her fingers gently through his hair. She let him off the hook this time, tugging him down so she could kiss him intently. He settled between her thighs and she felt him hard near her entrance, making her gulp and twist so she could nip at the pallor of his neck. She twisted her hand down and rubbed him against her entrance, making him groan needily in her ear.

"I'm r-ready," she panted out and Sherlock nodded once, grabbing hold of his cock and dragging himself downwards. "Uh, Sherlock?" she asked, voice gone a few octaves higher than usual. She pushed lightly at his hand, and he glanced up with dark eyes.

"Changed your mind?" he asked gruffly, sounding petulant and disappointed.

"No," she said slowly. "Where _are _you going?"

Sherlock blinked then and glanced down, brows furrowing. "Am I doing it wrong?" he asked slowly, voice soft.

"Yes darling," she said, but her voice wasn't mocking. "Up. Not- at least not right _now_. Intercourse is most typically vaginal between a male and a female."

Sherlock licked his lips. "I watched an instructional video that demonstrated otherwise. The male inserted his penis into the women's anus, I only assumed-" he was cut off by Molly falling into a fit of laughter. He grew slightly angry, drawing backwards, instantly bristling and on the defensive. When she realised that her laughter appeared cruel, she stopped.

"Oh, Sherlock. That wasn't instructional. That was porn. Completely fake, and explains why you did all of those," her nose wrinkled, "_things_." she sighed and crawled toward him, slipping into his lap.

Molly gently cradled Sherlock's face, pressing a tender kiss to his mouth as she shifted on top of his cock. "I thought-" he began, voice a murmur before she cut him off again with another gentle kiss.

"I know, darling. It's alright though." she smiled, dipping her hand between them to rub the head of his cock against her entrance.

Sherlock's face went bright red and he let out a loud groan. "C-condoms," he protested half-heartedly, and Molly nodded, retrieving one from his pocket. She tried pulling a sexy face as she tore open a packet with her teeth, but only ended appearing as if she were snarling. Rolling the latex down over his cock, she shifted forward and pressed him against her entrance, sucking in a breath as she carefully pressed down.

She was struck by how much it fucking _hurt._ Like a hot burning and she whimpered and pressed her face into Sherlock's chest. Once she was fully atop him, she paused for a good long moment, and Sherlock whispered out a hoarse, "Is it in?"

Molly gulped and nodded. "Y-yeah," she muttered out, giving an experimental swivel of her hips once the pain had mostly receded. The burning flared up again and she whimpered very softly when she felt the loss of him. Flushing in embarrassment, Sherlock grabbed hold of himself and pressed back into her. He gave her another moment to adjust, as it seemed to be hurting her, before experimentally thrusting up.

He let out a loud gasp, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open. "Fucking hell..." he muttered and grasped her hips.

Molly's hands went to press against his chest as she rocked down carefully, making her let out a soft gasp.

It seemed the hot slide of skin against skin coupled with the intensity of how tight and hot and _wet _Molly was, deemed to be too much for Sherlock to handle and he came with a low cry, shaking and gasping softly. Molly, however, was left unsatiated.

There was a stretch of silence where only the sound of Sherlock's laboured breathing and the chirps of the birds in the forest could be heard, and then Sherlock grunted out, "Did you come?"

"No," she murmured, climbing off him. He seemed saddened by that, even a little guilty, so she quickly, kissed his cheek. Lips were strictly reserved for their practice sessions. "It's alright. Next time, yeah?" she shakily tugged on her knickers, followed by other pieces of clothing.

It took another few minutes for Sherlock to collect his wits, and then he pulled on his respective clothing and kissed the crown of her head. "I'm sorry." she pecked his cheek again.

"It's alright. This is about practice, yeah? We're learning ourselves first and how this all works, and then we'll work on getting better." she pat his chest and made the descent from the treehouse, making her way back to the manor to clean up.

Sherlock was struck by how poorly he performed, and he vowed that further research was in order. This was, after all, for the betterment of his girlfriend, was it not?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Apologies for the late update, hope 2500 (and some) words makes up for it? I was at my brother's for the past month, but I'm home now so yay! Definitely a lot of updates to come as I have more free time now.**

**If you have tumblr, be sure to follow me over at sherlawly . tumblr . com!**

**Huge thanks to everyone following/favouriting this fic. Started out as a would-be one shot for the 50 Reasons prompt fill challenge but there's definitely more to tell with this story. I've got some juicy stuff planned out. And an additional huge thanks to SassfrasSandals, EloiseAtThePlaza, Rocking the Redhead, N, conchepcion, Minirose96, Team Klena 4ever, Poodle warriors, Zora Arian, Empress of Verace, Calicar, Kathmak, channyfaith (a.k.a my slave), Renaissancebooklover108, valeriejoanmorgan, Da3n3rysTargary3nStark, and Britishgeek77 for reviewing last chapter!**

**Not really much humour in this chapter but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. :)**

**Cheers! x**

* * *

Later that evening Sherlock headed into his bedroom, pulling off his now soiled and thoroughly wrinkled clothing. Balling them up, he intended to toss them into his hamper, however he stopped short, peering inside. Sitting atop the pile of his dirty clothing was a pair frilly knickers, yawning puppies strategically placed in various spots the frills didn't cover. They were either Molly's, or Mycroft's. It was anyone's guess. However Sherlock doubted Mycroft's large bottom could squeeze into such a dainty pair of underthings, so his bet was on Molly.

Letting out a soft noise, Sherlock moved a bit closer, gingerly picking them out and dropping his clothes in. Examining the soiled garment, Sherlock's face went rather pale as he took in the smattering of blood along the lining. His nostrils flared, and his cheeks heated. Had he hurt her? Would she need to go to the hospital? Had she even been fit enough to go home? He gulped and dropped the knickers back into the hamper, picking up his mobile and quickly tapping in her number. Pacing the length of the room multiple times, Sherlock felt his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for her to pick up.

"Molly," he said quickly when he heard her soft greeting.

"What's wrong?"

"I made you bleed," he stated, before gulping hard. "Why didn't you tell me? Are you alright? Do you need to be brought to the hospital?" his pace quickened and he took the length of the room in just a few short strides, before whirling back around to pace the length once more.

"Sherlock it's-" the speaker muffled and a few moments later he heard her speak again, her voice hushed. "It's because I was a virgin. There was a sort of, erm, _barrier_, I suppose you could say. When you, erm. When we had sex, it broke. I'm just a bit sore, it's nothing serious."

Sherlock gulped and rubbed at his temple. "You should have told me. I would've been more careful."

Molly snorted softly. "Sherlock, you hardly lasted long. It's not as if we had sex that tested the very essence of our stamina. It didn't hurt much. I'm fine, really."

Sherlock scowled, prickling slightly at her words, taking that as a pin to his heavily inflated ego. He was confident that during the next practice session, he would satisfy Molly greatly. _So greatly, she won't want be crawling back to her boyfriend_ simpered a voice deep inside of his mind palace, causing Sherlock to tense on his way into the shower.

No. Sherlock lov- _cared. _Sherlock _cared_ for Irene greatly. This entire escapade with Molly was purely for her benefit. So why did he feel as if he were lying to not only himself, but Molly too? He mentally berated himself for being so foolish, stepping into the onslaught of hot water, hoping it would help wash away his traitorous thoughts.

* * *

Molly felt a bit guilty over how concerned Sherlock had been for her welfare. She realised he must've genuinely thought he'd hurt her. She knew she shouldn't have left her knickers lying around, but a hot shower to alleviate the burning in between her thighs had been greatly in order after their tiring practice session. Molly didn't want to admit that she was just a tiny bit irked that Sherlock couldn't even last long enough to get her off, but she would immediately feel bad for thinking like that. Sherlock could hardly control his own body at this point, he was just beginning to learn himself in that sense and so was she.

Tuning back into conversation with her boyfriend, Molly smiled brightly at him and curled up in his arms. At his last remark, Molly pursed her lips.

"I wonder what happened to my hamster. I'd had him for a while, was surprised he lived so long." She ran her thumb over his knuckles, and he shrugged, the lilt of his words full and endearing.

"Perhaps he just got tired of being in a cage all day. Decided to take a trip down into the vents."

Molly laughed gently at that, turning slightly in his arms so her nose was pressed against his neck. "I don't really think hamsters posses that much thought process. And I doubt he'd leave a surefire source of food, A.K.A me, so willingly."

He only shrugged and quickly changed the subject, but Molly was left with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach long after he'd left for the night. Of course, he didn't depart without a good long snog and some dry rutting, but Molly pushed him away before anything could really come of it. She still needed to practice, to be good for him, or so she told herself.

* * *

The following day saw Sherlock dutifully researching various pleasure mechanisms featured in the female anatomy. Stumped upon discovering that every female was different, and what each liked best tended to vary, Sherlock realised that the best way to pleasure Molly was to learn what made her go. So, once he'd stored away various pleasure centres, Sherlock fired off a text to Molly, inviting her over. Shortly thereafter, she arrived to find Sherlock poised in the treehouse in a contemplative pose. He was akin to a sculpture, all pale skin and chiseled angles and Molly internally berated herself for noticing. Regardless of the intimate arrangement they currently were privy to, Molly had a boyfriend.

A pang of guilt stabbed at her chest, which she quickly pushed away, reminding herself that this was simply practice, that she didn't, nor would she ever, have feelings for her best friend.

"Ah, Molly," Sherlock announced, springing to his feet. He looked freshly bathed, water droplets still clinging to his unruly curls. However, he wasted little time with pleasantries, instead promptly pulling her towards him. Their bodies flushed, Sherlock ran his thumb down the slope of her jawline, catching the slight hitch of her breath as he pressed it against her pulse point at her jugular. The increased thrum sent his blood to a boil as he tipped her chin up and kissed her. _Really_ kissed her._  
_

Fingers fleeing into Sherlock's curls, tugging lightly on the slick ends, Molly let out a soft noise because this wasn't at all like the desperate fumble of their previous kisses. This was slow, sensual, and made Molly want _more_.

Guiding her down to the floor, Sherlock slowly undressed her, his lips pressing against revealed skin, teeth grazing slightly against her slightly-protruding hip bone, making her moan softly. She lifted her hips to help him remove her trousers, followed by her flimsy knickers, before he was between her thighs. It wasn't _at all _like the horrifyingly awkward past fumble. No, Sherlock was learning her, drinking her, tasting what she provided and sucking at the sensitive bud above her entrance. It was glorious, unlike anything she'd ever felt and it made her shriek in earnest, hips bucking upwards against his in an effort to get him closer, to get _more_.

Her hips arched and her fingers tugged at his curls one final time, before she was keening lowly, gasping out a hot pant of his name before she slumped back, the aftershocks coursing through her as he continued to lick and nuzzle at her. She pushed lightly at his head when she became too sensitive, lazily smiling up at him. His chin and lips glistened, and he wiped away the slickness on the sleeve of his shirt without really paying any mind to sanitary improprieties.

"Where did you learn to do _that_?" Molly giggled out, balancing on her elbows to peer up at him, grinning.

"The internet," he replied with a slight shrug, which only made her laugh louder. When Molly reached for him, though, he waved her off, briefly catching the glimpse of hurt in her eyes before he explained, "This was for you. An apology, of sorts," he cleared his throat uncomfortably and Molly rolled her eyes, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Really. It only hurt for a bit and I had a good hot bath last night. I'm completely alright." Reluctantly standing up, she began to tug on her clothes, glancing towards the bulge in his trousers.

"Really," he said upon noting the flicker of her gaze. "Don't worry about it. Now," he cleared his throat once again and pulled himself up. "Movie? I know you've been dying to see that one flick about the girl and the umbrella."

"Oh, I have," she turned her chin slightly and shrugged. "He never really wants to go with me, though."

Sherlock's lips twisted a bit as he adjusted his trousers. "My treat."

"If you insist," she laughed out.

* * *

"The entire scenario was completely unprecedented and idiotic. There is no possible way an umbrella would keep a little girl safe on the surface of the ocean. No doubt the elements would be unkind, not to mention whales and sharks and other sea creatures-" Molly shut him up with a prod to his abdomen.

"I liked it. Just because you didn't doesn't mean you have to go and ruin it," she scowled, letting out a small huff, followed by a mutter of, "Never going to see a movie with you again."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, quickly following after her. "I don't see how you could possibly like it. The glaring improbabilities are enough to turn away an entire audience range, namely people with brains and common sense."

Molly rounded on him. "Are you implying I have neither of those?"

Sherlock huffed. "No I'm simply-"

"You're simply being a git, is what you're doing. Just because you went down on me doesn't give you permission to treat me like a blathering ape." She whirled back around to storm away, but Sherlock quickly took hold of her wrist, hauling her back towards him.

"Molly, don't make a scene I was simply saying-"

"Yes, because you need to put things so _simply_ because I'm such an _idiot _that couldn't possibly live up to your massive intellect. You're completely right. Now let go of me." Molly's jaw set and she glared up at him, however due to the height difference she wasn't exactly as imposing as she wished to be.

"_Molly_," Sherlock said firmly, before he let go of her wrist and huffed. He was quiet a moment, expecting her to storm away, but instead she just stood there, staring up at him. And then she was tugging him into a nearby handicapped bathroom and he was against the wall and she was kissing him. It took him a moment to register that he was the one moaning when her hand fished down his trousers and her fingers curled around his cock._  
_

"_I'm sorry_," he gasped out, trying to switch positions but Molly was already on her knees in front of him with his trousers hanging around his knees, her nails digging into his hips to hold him still as she sucked on the head of his penis before taking him entirely into her mouth.

His eyes rolled up into his skull and Sherlock stuttered out a moan, hips quivering slightly as he knotted his fingers in her dark hair. It seemed she wasn't the only one that had done their research. But the wet slide of her tongue trailing sensually along his cock was far too much for him to bare, and he quickly shoved her back, wasting no time in tugging her up to his level.

Pinning her against the wall, Sherlock managed to shove down her trousers, fingers sliding down between her thighs and working at her entrance, then trailing up to circle and thumb at her clit. It didn't take long before she was crying out, biting down hard on his shoulder and whimpering her release.

Wincing slightly, Sherlock shifted Molly up so she was against the wall and quickly pressed inside of her, fucking into her and curling her legs around his waist. Stumbling towards the sink, he balanced her against the lip and dipped lower to change the angle of penetration, making her moan out loudly. Her nails clawed down his back and he kissed her, sloppy and greedy and thumbed at her clit again. It wasn't long before they reached their mutual ends, leaving the pair panting and moaning.

It had hardly been a planned practice session, but what had simply been Sherlock being, well, _Sherlock_, and managing to pick a fight whilst not entirely intending to, Sherlock discovered something about Molly.

She liked it when he was rough. And he wasn't sure that was necessarily his discovery to make.

* * *

"What's this?" Irene asked, curled around his body as they lay out in the grass, Sherlock's attention focused entirely on the book in front of him. He let out a slightly irritated noise and looked towards her, stilling when he caught side of her thumb against the shoulder of his shirt.

It was pleasantly warm outside and Irene had insisted that they lay out so she could sun bathe. "Really, all the sun does is damage your skin. There's hardly any use in vainly tanning while you are young, as it will only decrease how attractive you are when you are older."

"Then you'll just have to help me put sunscreen on," Irene had set with a wink and simpering smile. One thing had lead to another and they had snogged proficiently in the grass before Sherlock grew bored and turned to his book with swollen lips, making Mycroft click his tongue quietly when he walked by.

Now, though, her attention was focused primarily on the red staining the shoulder of his shirt, a remnant of Molly's teeth nipping into his skin the day prior. It hadn't exactly slipped his mind, moreover he hadn't seen any use in covering it up. Now, though, he regretted not doing so.

"Hmm? Oh, that. Experiment, really not a problem," he replied offhandedly, returning his attention back to his book, hoping she would accept the white lie.

She had, as he had expected. But deep in the back of his mind palace, there was a niggling sensation. Like he _wanted _Irene to find out. But upon later contemplation, he was sure she would understand his reasons for having sex with Molly. After all, they were practice sessions, and nothing more. But the niggling part of his mind told him he was only fooling himself.

He quickly shut that part out.


End file.
